


Try

by pearl_o



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, M/M, Mansion Fic, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6669484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magda finds the mansion full of surprises--the state of her marriage is one. Another is how she feels about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decisions

It takes less than a day from arriving in America for Magda to make her realization; a few hours after, perhaps, to decide what she is going to do about it. 

To actually catch Charles Xavier alone, however, takes significantly longer. Everyone at the mansion--everyone but _her_ , at least--is constantly busy, training and preparing for this mission they've taken on, and no one, it would seem, is busier than Mr. Xavier. Every time she finds him, he appears to be deep in concentration, working with one of the younger people on controlling and enhancing their abilities. When she looks for him in the evening, after the young ones have given themselves over to some relaxation and loud music or television, he is with Erik instead: the two of them together, drinking and playing chess.

They both look up when she opens the door. Erik looks taken aback; Mr. Xavier's face is unreadable. He invites her to join them, but she matches his careful manners with her own polite refusal. Erik promises he will be up to bed very soon, but she is not surprised when it is another hour or more before he climbs in beside her, asleep in seconds on these decadent sheets and soft pillows.

In the end, it is Mr. Xavier who comes upon her, a few days later. Magda is in one of the libraries (this is a house with _multiple libraries_ , another of the unbelievable luxuries of this place), on the ground floor, where the sun comes in through the windows in the late morning. She is working on her sewing when Mr. Xavier enters.

He heads straight to one of the bookshelves, running a finger along the spines at his eye level as if he's looking for a specific book. He doesn't seem to notice her, which is odd, for though Magda is sitting tucked into the armchair in the corner, from all the things Erik has told her about Mr. Xavier's unique abilities, he must surely be aware of her presence.

Magda clears her throat.

Mr. Xavier turns toward her. "Ah! Good morning, madame."

He is speaking French. Magda does not know French quite as well as she knows German or Hebrew, but it is significantly better than her English, which is very poor. Erik has tried to teach her before, but she has always had more important things to do. 

"Good morning," Magda replies in the same language, as she sets her sewing down in her lap. "I am glad you are here. I wished to speak with you."

Mr. Xavier sets his hands in his pockets and walks over to her. He is a handsome man, Magda thinks, somewhat abstractly. If he is not tall like Erik, he is not precisely short, either. His hair is nice, though it wants cutting, and his eyes are very pretty. He smiles frequently. Magda can see, certainly, that he is perfectly attractive.

"You are in love with Erik," Magda says bluntly, and the smile on Mr. Xavier's face disappears completely.

His posture straightens as well, until he is standing very stiffly indeed. He says, "With all due respect, madame, that is none of your business."

Magda raises her eyebrows. "He is my _husband_. Of course it is my business."

There's a flash of something in Mr. Xavier's eyes. "He may be, but I am not," he says rather quietly. "What makes you think you have a right to my feelings?"

Magda watches him silently for a moment. _Charles_ , Erik had said on the telephone, cracking across the line all those miles away, _Charles this_ and _Charles that_ , in a voice she has never heard from him in all the long years they have known each other. Every other time he left on these missions of his, she had let him go, knowing that it was something he needed to do, and knowing, too, that he would return to her.

But instead of returning this time, he sent for her to come here, across an ocean. It was safer here, he said, and that was fine, but she misses their home, small and cozy and perfect as it was. She has seen how Erik looks around; she does not think he intends to go back.

They are building something new here, Erik says. And every time she sees how she looks at Mr. Xavier, she thinks of the wonder in his voice telling her there were others, and that he was not the only one.

Magda wonders what things Erik speaks to Mr. Xavier about, that he does not talk about with her.

"I am sure you know much about my marriage that you have no right to," Magda says, and her suspicions are proved when Mr. Xavier's gazes drops down to her belly. She is not showing yet. She had only barely realized before Erik went away the last time; she had decided not to tell him, but she had blurted it out anyway when they said goodbye, and he had kissed her for a very long time and held her close even longer with his face buried in her hair, before he finally left.

"What is it exactly that you want from me?" Mr. Xavier says, a little roughly. "If you just want to throw it in my face that he belongs to you--I know that already, thank you very much! There's no reason to be cruel about it."

He sighs, half-turning away as he places his hand over his eyes, and to her surprise, she feels both pity and a certain sense of comradeship. She had expected--smugness, perhaps, or glibness. Something other than this. 

"I think..." Magda says slowly. "I think...that Erik loves you, too. And I think that Erik does not have very many people to love him, or for him to love in return. And I think...that I worry about him a great deal."

Mr. Xavier lowers his hand very slowly to meet her gaze.

"I've always thought one of the interesting elements of telepathy is that one isn't very easily astonished," he says, as if choosing his words with great care, "but I really think you've managed it."

"I do not want you to be my enemy here," Magda says firmly. She's surprised herself by how completely she means it. "I would much rather have an ally."

Mr. Xavier shakes his head--not as a refusal, but simply still in surprise over her words. "I--I think I would like that, too."

"All right," Magda says. She sets her sewing aside and stands up from the chair, so she can present her hand. "Shall we shake on it?"

Mr. Xavier's handshake is firm and pleasant and the smile he gives her is more to her taste than any of the others she's seen from him this week. 

"We will have to tell Erik together, you know," Magda muses. "Otherwise he will get angry and think we are having a joke at his expense."

"He might think that anyway," Mr. Xavier says. "But, yes; you're right. Will you come to my study after supper? I do have to get back to work now, I'm afraid."

Magda nods decisively; it is settled. Mr. Xavier gives her another smile, smaller and more uncertain but still sincere, and as she settles back to her sewing, he quickly finds his book.

He stops at the door on the way out. "Oh, and Magda?" he calls back.

"Yes?" she says, frowning at her stitches in concentration.

"You will call me Charles now, won't you?"

"Charles," she repeats. "Very well."

Charles leaves, and Magda is alone in the room once more, smiling down at her lap, an unexpected and unlikely lightness filling her chest.


	2. Five things that happen next

1.

She left him once. It was just after the baby died, when she witnessed for the first time all the things he had hidden from her. She had known him since they were boy and girl together, barely sixteen, but she had never seen this, neither the unearthly abilities he possessed nor the anger she now saw sat unyielding at the heart of him.

She had seen it, and she had left. He found her again, and he knelt at her feet and lay his head in her lap and wept--and she had realized that, yes, he is that anger and that power, but he is this, too, the boy she has loved since they were lost children together.

She came back to him. She has never regretted it since. 

"And yet," she tells Charles, taking comfort in his grave and understanding face, "sometimes I am still frightened."

"Of him?" Charles says. "Or for him?"

"Yes," Magda says.

2.

Erik is in love with Charles. Magda knows this. Charles knows it, too. It is possible the only one who does not know it is Erik himself.

In all the years of their marriage, Magda has never seen Erik look at another woman. She has seen him look at a man, once or twice, and this worried her for a moment before she realized Erik had no idea he was doing it, and certainly no intentions behind it.

Erik is focused, committed, devoted; Magda has always known this. Self-knowledge, however, is not his strong point. And why would he bother acknowledging to himself something he can never have?

"It is all right," Magda says gently, silencing his garbled protests. "Erik, my love, I promise, it is all right."

Erik shuts his mouth and he turns from her to Charles, silent and still on the couch, clutching his drink with white-knuckled fingers.

He shouldn't be nervous, Magda thinks. She watches them watching each other, the slow slide of hope and surprise over Erik's face and the relief and disbelief that washes across Charles's.

Perhaps she should be jealous, but the feeling doesn't come.

3.

Magda is not one to complain, but she must admit: it is a little lonely, the mansion.

Part of it is what she can only think of as a lack of direction. She is the only one here who is not working, working very hard, training and preparing. Magda is not the only one without these special abilities, but even the other woman, Moira, is constantly busy with organizing and helping the others.

"Your task is to say safe," Erik says at night. "To stay safe, and grow our baby. That is all."

Sometimes Magda suspects she married a nincompoop.

She finds things to keep her busy, but there are other issues. It is hard, not being able to communicate with the others. There is Erik, of course, and Charles, and Moira to a degree (and she does like Moira, she thinks they could be friends, perhaps); but all of the others speak English only. 

It is not that she thinks she would have much to say to them, necessarily--while she realizes they are not children, they seem so much younger than she remembers being at their ages; she cannot imagine they have much in common--it is irritating, nonetheless. And she cannot do errands, something as simple as going to the grocery store on her own.

"I could tutor you in the evenings, if you like," Charles offers.

Magda hesitates. "You are very busy already. This is not as important."

"I have time," Charles says. "And I'm a professor, you know. What's more important than teaching?"

He grins at her--his grin really is very winning--and Magda gives in.

He is a better teacher than Erik has been when they've tried in the past, though Erik joins them as well once he realizes what is happening. Magda does her exercises during the day, and after dinner the three of them meet in Charles's study for an hour so she can practice further, before she leaves them to their chess.

(Magda, despite Erik's attempts to convert her, has never cared for chess.)

4.

In bed, underneath the covers, she holds Erik's body tightly between her legs, his weight a familiar, welcome comfort above her. She loves--has always loved--the hard planes of his back beneath her palms, the stiff and eager length of his manhood against her belly, the deliberate and always surprising softness of his kisses.

Erik moves his lips down to her neck. "Would you like," he starts, so low she thinks for a moment he is humming against her skin, and not speaking actual words at all.

He doesn't continue. Magda opens her eyes. "Would I like?" she repeat, curling her foot around his calf.

"Tonight," Erik says, "I thought perhaps…"

Of course, Magda thinks, he wants her on top tonight--but no; when she begins to move out from under him, he stops her. 

He moves his head down further, without another word, to begin suckling at her breast. This is familiar, too, and she relaxes into it, petting his soft hair as he moves from one nipple to the other. He doesn't stay as long as he normally does, though, and when he stops he doesn't rise up over her to kiss her mouth again. Instead, he goes...lower, kissing his way down her chest and her soft belly. She can't help but squirm beneath him, surprise and arousal warring in her stomach, even as he pushes her legs wide apart and scoots her forward, dipping his head to kiss her in her innermost parts.

"Oh," Magda says, " _oh_."

Erik looks very proud of himself afterwards, but she cannot really hold it against him. 

It occurs to her, just before she drifts to sleep, that there is really only one place Erik can be learning new tricks. The next morning, it is several hours before she can look at Charles without blushing.

5\. 

According to Hank, the tall doctor, there are two heartbeats. Two babies.

Erik's expression goes serious and stiff at the news. Someone who didn't know him very well might think he was unhappy; Magda knows better. He is worried. Another person to protect, three now rather than two. Another person he thinks can be taken from him.

He is thrilled and scared and stupid. There will be no talking to him for days. Let him wear himself out with his metal and his exercising, and then they will discuss what needs discussing.

In the meantime, she makes a cake. Charles is her helper. She quickly determines he cannot be trust with anything beyond simple measurements, but he is good company, nonetheless.

"Can you hear them?" Magda asks thoughtfully, cracking an egg against the rim of the bowl. "The babies?"

"In English, please," Charles says. 

She rolls her eyes, but she repeats it anyway. Not perfectly, but well enough for him to answer.

"No. Not yet. I don't think their brains are quite developed enough yet. It's an interesting question, actually: when is the moment that they become close enough to the average person for telepathy to be useful? I haven't really been around many pregnant women or infants enough to notice."

Charles gets excited when he talks about mutations. Magda enjoys listening to him, even when she is not particularly interested in the topic herself. 

She is interested now, though. She ponders it quietly as she finishes mixing the batter and pours it into the pan. Once the cake is in the oven, she speaks again. 

"So you cannot--you do not know if the children are...special?"

"I'm afraid not," Charles says. He tilts his head. "Would you be pleased if they were?"

"Erik will be very happy," Magda says.

"Yes," Charles says.

Magda sighs as she sits down beside him. "I want my children to be happy and healthy--what else does any mother wants?" 

She's speaking German, but Charles does not stop her. 

"And I will love them no matter what. But it seems like it is a burden to carry, for all of you, and how can I wish for another burden for them when life is already so hard? And--and yet, there is another part of me that would very much like to see what wonders they possess. What new and brilliant things they bring to the world. Ah, well." 

Magda can't help but laugh at herself. "What a long way to tell you I do not know!"

Charles shakes his head. He reaches out and squeezes her hand, and she allows it, and even squeezes back. 

"Either way, your children will be very lucky," Charles says, which only Magda laughs again.

"Oh, no, not with the charm again! Go, go, clean the dishes before you wheedle your way out of it!"

"I would never," Charles protests, but he is already rising to his feet and heading to the sink.


	3. intimacy and curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is Red's fault. I'm not sure exactly how, but it definitely is.
> 
> Note the rating change to explicit.

After she asked, Charles was silent for long enough that Magda had time to think over her question, to reconsider it and realize how it sounded, and even to blush a little at her own nerve. She started to apologize--she shouldn't have said anything, of course it was inappropriate--but Charles did speak then to interrupt her.

"No, no, it's not that!" he reassured her. "You have nothing to apologize for, that isn't--" He bit his lip. "My worry is that you'll be...disgusted, and that you'll look at Erik differently after."

That, Magda couldn't quite understand, and she told Charles so. Erik was her husband, her love, and nothing was likely to ever change that. And, too, of course she knew already Erik and Charles were intimate together; why would this make a difference?

"You would know better than I would, I suppose," Charles had said, and to her very great surprise, he had agreed.

Now, in Charles's bedroom (larger than the one she and Erik share, but with no more personality), she is sitting into an armchair in the corner, her feet tucked up beneath her. She's trying to keep still, but she can't stop playing a little nervously with the embroidery on her nightgown, or the hair at the end of the braid that falls over her shoulder. Everytime she notices what she's doing, she forces herself to stop; she should be invisible, fade into the background, not distract from anything.

In the middle of the room, Charles and Erik stand, kissing. 

It's _strange_ , certainly, watching her husband kiss someone else, Magda must admit--but disgusting? No, not disgusting. Not at all. And strange does not even mean bad. Perhaps it would be different to see Erik with a stranger, but as it is, she is too aware of the knowledge that it is Charles he is kissing. Charles who loves Erik just as she does. Charles who cares so deeply for them and their family.

Their mouths separate, leaving both men breathing heavily. Erik's gaze flickers over to meet Magda's, looking uncertain for a moment; but Charles goes up on his toes to whisper something into his ear, and Erik's focus snaps back, immediately and completely back to Charles. Together they pull Erik's turtleneck out of his trousers and over his head to discard on the floor beside them. Erik reaches between them to begin to unbutton Charles's shirt as well, but Charles stops him before he's even halfway done, pushing Erik's hands away and down to his waist. They kiss again, moving now across the carpet in small, shuffling steps until they reach the bed.

Erik sits on the edge of the mattress, and Magda barely catches the edge of Charles's wicked grin before he sinks gracefully down to the ground. He pushes Erik's knees wider apart, settling his own body between Erik's legs. 

The look on Erik's face is--well, Magda _knows_ that face, knows it well after all these years, the way he gets dazed and speechless. "No blood left in your brain," she's always joked, but it's not just that, because there's a sweetness to it, too, a vulnerability that nobody else ever sees of Erik.

It seems that look still makes her heart swell up like this, even when it's not aimed at her.

She's distracted by Erik's face, but Charles is busy, too, and when Erik throws his head back suddenly along with a cut-off cry (a curse, she knows, all these years and she still hasn't gotten him to stop), she looks down to see Charles's hands, pulling Erik's penis out of his underwear.

It's fully stiff already, it appears, straining out into the open air. _Pretty_ , she's always said, cooing in bed, trailing her fingertip over the pulsing length to watch Erik twitch, _so pretty_. Erik had protested her word choice, but she stands by it: no other word captures that rosy pink shade, the perfect shapeliness and symmetry of it.

Just seeing it makes warmth rush through her body; she sucks in a deep breath and shifts slightly in the chair.

Charles strokes him once, twice--his hands are bigger than hers are, Magda realizes, capturing more of Erik's girth in his grip--and then he takes a deep breath and lowers his head, taking Erik's penis into his mouth.

She _knew_ this was coming, of course. It was much of the reason she was so curious, after all. Erik has started using his mouth on her, and she knows that it must work the other way as well, but whenever she asks Erik directly he gets shy. He's better at doing things than talking about them. And whenever she tried to take matters into her own hands, so to speak, he would guide her back to up to kiss, and she would end up with him inside her again instead. Which was fine, except...she wants to know, this new thing that they can do together, that can bring him pleasure. And if it's good enough for Charles to do to him, surely it is good enough for her?

And so: Magda is expecting this, to see Charles's mouth on her husband's penis. And yet there's still something immensely startling about it, something inherently surprising. Charles's head bobs, an easy fluid movement. She can see the movement of his throat when he swallows. And--surely Charles's mouth cannot be _that_ large, can it? How on earth so much of Erik can go into him she can't imagine. 

(But then, on their wedding night, she couldn't imagine how Erik could fit inside _her_ , could she, something so large where she always felt so small? And _that's_ certainly not been a concern, the last ten years or more. But still. It's not as though Charles can just unhinge his jaw!)

There's something almost hypnotizing about it, watching the smooth rhythm, the glimpses that appear and disappear of Erik's member, wet now and shiny where the light hits it. It's only hearing Erik's sounds that pulls her attention away, and back up to Erik's face.

Erik is always so quiet in the act; the soft noises he makes always sound as if they're practically torn out of him, helpless against pleasure and almost surprised. 

Eyes closed, teeth gritted, forehead wrinkled deeply--he could be in pain, except for how clearly he is not. 

He is so beautiful like this Magda almost wants to weep. 

She doesn't make a conscious decision to rise from the chair and cross the room. It's as if she's moving on instinct alone, or as if she has no choice in the matter at all. Suddenly she is at the bed, climbing onto the mattress beside Erik.

He opens his eyes, head turning toward her in surprise. His mouth opens but before he can speak, she kisses him gently. She pulls away after a moment, pushing a sweaty lock of his hair off his forehead.

"My boy," Magda murmurs, "look at you, my handsome boy," and she kisses his cheek, all along the line of his jaw, stubble scratchy against her lips.

Erik comes then, with a sharp cry he silences almost immediately. She kisses him again as he shakes through it. Charles makes a noise, too, and she looks back down in time to see Charles pulling back and letting Erik's softening penis fall from his mouth. There's no mess anywhere, which means that--oh, of course, Charles must have taken that, too, swallowed down all of Erik's seed while he spent.

How odd. How interesting.

Magda can't think about that, or anything, for very long. She wants--she needs-- _something_. 

Erik's hands have been on Charles's shoulders, holding on with an unceasing grip this entire time. He moves them now, though, up to Charles's face, tilting his chin up while Erik leans down and they share another long deep kiss.

When Erik straightens up and turns to her, Magda takes one of his hands in her own. She has to kneel up on the mattress to guide him where she wants him, underneath the hem of her nightgown and up between her legs. She hadn't realized until this moment just how wet she is, soaked through her panties and down her inner thighs. Erik pushes the scrap of her panties aside enough to make room for his fingers, and pushes three up into her, a smooth glide as easy as anything. She clenches around him, once, twice, shocked by how close she seems already. 

Should she be embarrassed, doing this in front of another man? It's not as though there is anything to see, the fabric of her nightgown covering everything. But does that matter when it is so obvious, anyway, with Erik's hand under her skirt and Magda moving the way she is?

Erik twists his fingers, keeps moving his thumb in a steady circle around her nub, at the edge of too firmly but not quite there, just _perfect_ \--and Magda shakes and squeaks on an intake of breath, as her peak hits her all at once, before she's expecting it.

When she can think clearly again, she looks back to Erik's lap. There Charles is, still on his knees, his head resting pillowed on Erik's thigh, and--his eyes are closed, she realizes. 

He allowed Magda to be here, to watch him do such an intimate thing to Erik, and he still was considerate enough of her modesty, _her_ privacy, to look away. 

What a lovely, lovely man, Magda thinks, and she nudges Erik a bit sharply in the ribs.

"Hm?" Erik says, blinking a bit stupidly. He always gets sleepy after sex. 

"You're being very rude, my love," Magda says. She gestures down toward Charles. "Are you going to leave the poor man like this?"

Charles shivers, but doesn't open his eyes.

"I didn't--" Erik says. "I would never--!"

Magda raises her eyebrows at him meaningfully. 

"Oh god," Charles says. He blinks open his eyes, meeting Magda's gaze for a second--his eyes are almost all pupil, the fierce blue only a thin circle around the outside. "You don't--you don't mind?"

"Don't be stupid," Magda says gently.

Charles lets out something like a sob, and then he's sitting back on his heels, tearing open the fly to his own trousers with trembling fingers. Perhaps Magda should close her eyes, extend the same courtesy to Charles that he gave to her. It seems almost silly at this point, with all this intimacy that's been shared between them. Is it wrong to be curious about this, too? Erik's is the only penis she's ever seen in a state of arousal. She only gets a glimpse of Charles's--shorter than Erik's, thick and ruddy, foreskin intact--and then she looks away as he takes himself in hand.  
Instead she watches Erik watching him. Erik's eyes are so bright and happy. "I'm surprised you've lasted this long, Charles," he says, in that low teasing tone she has always both loved and hated. "Two orgasms in the same room, and you listening in? I would have thought you'd have already _something something_."

She doesn't know the last phrase Erik says; it's not something that's come up in her English lessons, naturally. But from context she can guess it is something filthy, and it causes Charles to moan very loudly indeed, loud enough that Magda realizes he must be reaching his orgasm as well.

Erik slips off the edge of the bed, onto the floor to join Charles. He should look a little ridiculous, his trousers all bunched up and awkwardly restraining, but Magda doesn't care and she sincerely doubts Charles does, either. He pulls Charles forward, wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace, and whispering something again into his ear; Magda can see Charles smiling over his shoulder.

And then--Erik lifts Charles's hand up between them, and licks it clean.

Of everything tonight, it's that which makes Magda blush.

"You both," Erik begins, sounding very serious, but he does not continue.

Magda knows the sound of that voice, also, too well. She is going to stop it before it can begin to grow.

"Erik," she says sternly. "You are thinking too hard."

Charles laughs, tucking his head in against Erik's shoulder as if to hide it. "And she's not even the telepath."

"I wonder sometimes," Erik says.

"Do not create things to worry about. Enough things will present themselves in time." Magda scoots back to the edge of the mattress. When she leans over she can press a kiss to the top of Erik's head. Afterwards, she rises up to her feet. 

"I am going to bed now," she tells them both. "Charles, thank you for sharing this with me."

Charles laughs again. He is, she suspects, a little giddy. "My pleasure."

"If you could manage to keep Erik from any gloomy concerns, I would be most grateful for that as well."

"I'll do my best," Charles says, and then shushes Erik when Erik starts to say something. Erik subsides with a displeased sounding grunt that makes Magda smile.

"Good night, my dears," she says. She can feel the flash of surprise from Charles at her words, but she means it--he is her dear, now, too. In a completely different way from Erik, yes, but dear to her nonetheless. He is part of their family.

That is a talk that can wait for another time, however. For now, she leaves them in their embrace and lets herself out the door to the hall to make her way toward her and Erik's bed.


End file.
